


Can't Seem to Keep Myself Straight

by thisaccountisdone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self Harm, oh my god that's already a tag what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisaccountisdone/pseuds/thisaccountisdone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic about Stiles struggling with Borderline Personality Disorder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Seem to Keep Myself Straight

**Author's Note:**

> Fic contains mention of suicide and self harm. May be triggering.
> 
> I've tried to write another Stiles Has BPD fic before but I didn't like it. I don't quite like this either.  
> I might add more at another time or write another fic because I'd really like to explore this idea more. It's actually incredibly hard to write. It's completely short but I need to sleep.

Stiles has this problem where sometimes he forgets who he is. Not his name or his age. He forgets small things like who he likes and who he doesn’t like and what his interests are. He tries to categorize them into good and bad but they change with his mood. Like when Scott stood him up for Allison, they were both put under the “Bad” column. When Danny helped him with tracing the text, he was put under “Good”.

And sometimes he doesn’t feel real. He’s automated machinery; moving mechanically. It’s like his life is characterized by doing the Robot. The world blurs around him and it’s much too sharp but he can’t see straight. It’s like looking at the world through a thick pane of glass or a silk screen. Fog surrounds him and he can’t remember what he ate for breakfast or what day it is.  
  
He tries to sort it out but he can’t. It’s hard to remember what happened a week ago as opposed to a minute ago. If only he could keep a schedule of every single minute of every single day… Or maybe just never leave his room.  
  
Every mood is an extreme. He doesn’t get sad or happy; he gets depressed and manic. He doesn’t have a crush on someone; he falls in love. He doesn’t like or dislike someone; he loves and hates them. Annoyed? No, it’s blinding rage. Every little criticism is a huge blow to his ego and leaves him in pain.  
  
He didn’t really notice before Allison because then, Scott was his. Sometimes he’d have this frantic worry that Scott didn’t like him or that Scott would leave him but that was normal, right? Then Allison came along and he found himself in a jealous rage. He should have been happy for Scott but all he could think about was being left alone. Allison was just an excuse for Scott to finally leave him.  
  
He’d find himself sitting by his phone, trying to resist the urge to text and call Scott over and over again. He resisted the urge to scream at Scott and call him every name he could think of. He resisted the urge to just cut all ties with Scott and pretend he doesn’t exist. Somehow, he resisted. But it was so hard to take and he didn’t understand it.  
  
One part of him knew Scott wouldn’t leave but the other was so smug. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. He was just looking for an excuse. He’s hated you all along.” “God, you’re so horrible. No wonder everyone hates you. They’re just taking pity on you. You’re fucking horrible.” An internal battle would go on for hours. Then he’d ignore Scott until his mood cleared up which didn’t take long.  
  
It tended to work out like this:  
  
First period: Hate Scott; ignore him  
Second period: Hate Scott; angry at the world  
Third period: Someone cracked a joke; god I feel amazing  
Fourth period: Scott’s so great; I love him so much  
Fifth period: I’m so glad Scott’s my friend; everything is perfect  
Sixth period: Wow life sucks; Scott, go away  
Seventh period: I hate everything; please kill me now  
Eight period: I can’t wait to go home (I hope I get hit by a car)  
  
Rinse and repeat. Some days were better than others and he felt good most of the day. Other days he was a mine field and any little comment would set him off. The mood swings were easy to hide when no one was looking. To his dad, nothing was amiss. Scott was too busy with Allison to notice. No one seemed to notice that he was slipping.  
  
Things were better that way, really. So, when he began cutting his thighs and driving too fast and maybe taking too much Adderall, who was going to notice? It was a slow descent down a slippery slope and then he lost his footing and began crashing. No one heard him stumbling through the underbrush.  
  
But he was able to make excuses, if he needed to. He wasn’t an amazing liar but self preservation was another matter. It was harder around werewolves to lie, though. He didn’t think of that before trying. Most people don’t press the issue when they know someone’s lying but it’s like werewolves have some kind of instinct to get all up in your business.  
  
Stiles wasn’t entirely sure when he started spending more time with Derek. It seemed to just happen. Derek would pop in sometimes to check on how Stiles’ research was going or how Scott was doing. After awhile, Stiles thought maybe Derek just needed an excuse. But neither of them really had friends so it was okay if maybe they pushed it a little.  
  
The problem was that Derek would come in unannounced through the window. It was another werewolf thing, really. No one understands how to use doors. Since it was his room, Stiles never really thought to be careful. When he cut, he would go into the bathroom because it was easier but that wasn’t always the case. So he didn’t really think much of it when one day, he sat on the floor and just cut his side.  
  
When he stood to get up, Derek was frozen on the window sill. Stiles’ heart stopped for just a minute and he cleared his throat but he couldn’t think of anything to say. At this time, witty banter wasn’t going to work. They stared at each other for a few minutes while blood ran down his side. Finally, Derek moved.  
  
He wasn’t sure what he expected, honestly. Half of him wanted Derek to be angry and the other half wanted him to ignore it. He was almost hoping Derek would scream at him and push him against the wall. But Derek didn’t say anything. He just hopped down from the window sill and calmly walked into Stiles’ bathroom. He came out with a wet washcloth and gingerly pressed it to Stiles’ side. There was a sharp intake of breath as a stinging pain hit him.  
  
“Do you want to talk?” Derek asked softly. His eyes were wide and filled with worry. Worry about Stiles. That shouldn’t have made him so happy.  
  
“You’re not angry?” Stiles asked when he was finally able to reply. His voice was shaky and his head was pounding.  
  
“No. Should I be? I’ve been depressed before, Stiles, and I know how hard it is. I’ve wanted to hurt myself and I’ve wanted to die. Sometimes I still do. I know what it’s like. And I also know that I can’t do anything about it. You’re pack and I want you to be okay.”  
  
Stiles winced. Losing almost your whole family would make you depressed. Having your only living family murdered by your catatonic uncle who then tries to kill you would make it worse. He almost felt selfish for feeling so bad. He lost his mother but Derek was on a different scale.  
  
Stiles sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He quietly sat down on his bed, letting the washcloth fall to the floor, and tried to think of something to say. Derek just watched him. He didn’t push or pry. He just stood there waiting for something or maybe nothing. Maybe he wasn’t expecting anything in return.  
  
“I wish I knew what to say.”  
  
Derek furrowed his eyebrows and looked towards the ceiling. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know you can talk to me anytime you need to.”  
  
Stiles nodded. “Can you stay here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”  
  
There was something in the look Derek gave him that he couldn’t figure out. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him or maybe Derek’s eyes really were shining. “Yeah,” Derek said, “I can.”


End file.
